


The Monster Within

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, BDSM, First Time, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-22
Updated: 2003-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark's journey to rid himself of the 'Monster'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monster Within

## The Monster Within

by Chibimom

[]()

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters nor do I make any money from this. 

Rating: NC/17 

Pairing: Lex/Clark 

First Time. Hurt/Comfort. Angst. S&M. Mild reference to incest. 

Thanks so much to my hard working betas: Unhinged, Serenity, Goddess Rissa 

Please read and review. Do you like it? If not, please tell me why. Thanks! 
    
    
                        The Monster Within
                                  By Chibimom
    

Clark didn't know where he was. He did know he hadn't crossed any oceans . . . yet. He stared out at the mist, as it rode the cold waves in without caution. The huge black rocks on the beach did not stop the waves today, any more than they had in the last millennium. The bellowing of the waves against the rocks denied Clark his thoughts, if only for a few moments. 

Clark got up and brushed the wet sand from his jeans. The bottoms were frayed and the knees were torn. He put his socks in his cheap sneakers and stuffed them into a worn red backpack as he walked along the cold beach. Overhead, gulls screamed at this trespasser, anxious to swoop down and dine on the crustaceans and bits of shellfish, which had washed up on the shore. 

Clark pulled his thin cotton jacket around himself in an effort to keep the mist-laden wind at bay. It wasn't working. He stopped at a tide pool and watched as a crab attacked a clam. The clam was opened quickly by the strong claw and the meat dragged back down into the safety of the crab's home in the sand. Clark remembered that he was hungry, too. 

All he had left in his pockets was 32 cents. That wouldn't even buy a single hamburger at Micky Ds. It had been days since he'd had a decent meal. He really didn't like eating at shelters. It always felt like he was taking food from someone who really needed it. Someone who had nowhere else to go. He now accepted the fact that he had nowhere else to go, either. 

The sneakers he wore had holes in the sides, right above the soles over his little toes. The bottoms were nearly worn through. They don't hold up very long at super speed, Clark thought ruefully, as he tied the laces. Maybe he could get a new pair at the next shelter he ate at. He always offered to work for his food and other needs and his help was rarely turned down. There was always something that needed fixing or cleaning. 

During very desperate times, Clark had sold his body on the street. His youth and innocent face fetched $50 for a simple blow job. Once he'd accepted $100 for anal sex. Had he known, he could have charged a lot more. He was beginning to feel very desperate again. Clark shuddered at the thought. His stomach rumbled. 

Before he realized it, he was out on a small road that went north/south. He turned south, hoping for a warmer climate. 

* * *

Lex Luthor gazed out the glass expanse of his LexCorp office in Smallville. He had no idea how long he had been staring at nothing. Susan, his secretary, rang for him twice before she knocked lightly at the door and peeked her head in. 

"Lex, Mr. Davis is here for your 1 o'clock meeting," she said softly. "It's now 1:20." 

Without moving, Lex said, "Just give me the papers to sign, Susan. I know he wants $4.8 million for the plant. I'm not in the mood to haggle over $400,000." 

"Yes, Sir." Susan left and returned shortly with the contract. 

Lex turned to his desk and glanced over the contract. He had already read the proposal; the only hitch was the price. Signing it, he gave it back to Susan. 

"I'm going home, Susan. Clear my schedule for tomorrow. I won't be in. Gabe can reach me if he needs me. You take the day also." 

"Thank you Sir." Susan left the office. 

Lex sat down and turned off his computer. Sitting back in his chair, he covered his face with his hands, and sighed. He then packed his laptop in its case, picked up the keys to his black Porsche, and headed out of the building. 

It had been 10 long months. All his wealth and power had not availed him of the one thing he wanted most in this world: to find one raven-haired runaway teenager. It seemed like Clark had vanished off the face of the earth. Lex couldn't count the number of private investigators he had hired to find the boy. Every so often, someone would call with a lead and Lex would get hopeful. But nothing ever panned out. 

Lex pressed the accelerator on the Porsche until the speedometer read 185 mph. Way too fast for the narrow county roads. Martha Kent claimed Lex had a death wish for driving like that. That he shouldn't blame himself for Clark's leaving. Of course, Jonathan blamed him. And he was right. Jonathan just didn't know why Lex was to blame. 

2 

On the outskirts of a small town, Clark came to a convenience store. He went inside to use the restroom. Looking back at him in the mirror was a face he didn't recognize. The hair was greasy and hung in long strings around his collar and tangled in his beard. The cheekbones, which had always been high and prominent, were now stretched tight against hollow cheeks. The clothes, though little more than rags, hung on him like a scarecrow. Scarecrow. How apropos. Such a distant memory now. Lex had saved him that night. Lex . . . 

Clark pushed that name out of his thoughts. He wet his head the best he could in the sink and applied some liquid soap. After washing, he dried his hair a bit with the hand blow dryer, mounted on the wall. Other men came and went, glaring at Clark like he was a bum. Well, he guessed he was. He took out his well-used disposable razor and attempted to shave his beard. It wasn't the best job, but it would do. 

Clean hair and a shave, while helping his appearance tremendously, only made his face look thinner, gaunter. He could do nothing about his clothes. They were filthy and they smelled. He would try to get some newer ones at the next shelter he found. 

Clark sat on one of the benches outside the store and waited for a young boy to eat his hotdog. Experience had taught him that children seldom eat all of their meals and that was great for Clark. Sure enough, the father was anxious to get back on the road and made the boy throw the remainder of his meal away. Clark grabbed the sack of trash almost before it hit the bottom of the trash barrel. His hunger melted the shame he felt from the father's disgusted look. The sack held a bonanza of culinary delights. Three quarters of a hot dog, a half a sack of potato chips, and one rather mushed DingDong. 

His hunger eased but not erased, Clark sat back on the bench. He hung onto the paper bag so it would look like he had spent money in the store and wouldn't be run off right away for loitering. 

Sometimes he desperately wanted to call his mother, tell her he was alright. Ask her to come get him. Bring him home. He never wanted to speak to his father again. But he couldn't call, couldn't go home, because he was a monster. 

* * *

Lex sat on the couch in his study, working on devouring a 3/4 bottle of expensive scotch. Lionel burst in, his coat billowing out behind him. Lionel always burst into a room, he never just walked in. 

"Hi Dad," Lex didn't turn toward him. He threw back a shot of scotch and poured another. "You're not welcome here." 

"You're drunk." Lionel walked past the couch and turned to face his son. He sat down in the high-back chair opposite the couch and glared at Lex. 

"Very observant." Lex drank down his liquor and poured yet another. "Get out" 

"That Kent boy has been gone for years now. Time to get over . . . " 

Lex rose from the couch and threw his glass at the wall, just missing Lionel's head. Lionel never flinched as he regarded his son with dismay. 

"Ten months, Dad, ten months." Lex took a long drink from the bottle, then set it down on the coffee table between them. He walked in front of Lionel's chair, leaned over and put his hands on either armrest. He looked his father in the eyes. 

"You're the reason he's gone. And just in case you don't already know . . ." Lex was nose to nose with Lionel, his breath heavy with scotch.. "I hate you!" He pushed himself upright and walked over to look out the colored glass window behind his desk. "I've given serious thought to hiring an assassin. But you're not worth it, Dad." 

Lex didn't know his father had moved until he felt a cold hand cup the side of his face from behind. Stiffening, Lex pulled his head away from the cold touch, but continued to gaze out the window. Lionel nuzzled the back of Lex's neck and wrapped his arms around his son, seeking firm nipples through silk fabric. 

Lex whirled around in rage and pushed his father back against the desk. Lionel barely caught himself from falling. 

"Never again." Lex was breathing heavily, the liquor beginning to slow his movements and slur his speech. 

Lionel picked himself up and straightened his suit. Taking his coat, he walked toward the door to the study and turned for a moment. 

"I'm hurt that you won't accept my love, Lex. But, you'll come around. You always do." He slammed the study door behind him. 

3 

Lex removed a square of carpet from under his bed, revealing a safe, and dialed the combination. Pulling the door open, he removed the large manila envelope. He closed the safe and kicked the carpet square over the entrance. 

He flung the pictures and pages across his bed like he was dealing cards. Each one brought back a memory. Either a vivid memory of the event or a memory of what he had been told. Lionel had actually shown these to Clark. His beautiful, innocent, 15 year old, no 16 now, friend. And lover. No wonder Clark had run. Lex's own broken arms were inconsequential. Now healed. 

Once all the reports and pictures were scattered across the bed, Lex took out a small box in the drawer next to his bed. He had told Clark there were things in his past that he was ashamed of. But how could someone like Clark ever imagine the truth? Inside the box was an old fashioned straight razor. It had belonged to his Grandfather Luthor, who was quite hirsute just like Lionel; funny how the razor ended up with a bald grandson. Lex untied the lavender silk robe and peeled it back and down off his arms. The blade reflected Lex's face as he stared at it, his skin glistening with sweat, with anticipation. 

Tonight's cut would fit just under his third rib on his left side. He studied the other small scars, tiny raised white lines really, starting just below his right shoulder blade. He counted to be sure the number was still correct. One cut for each day Clark was gone. There were currently 325 white lines; holidays counted extra. Lex carefully drew the razor across his skin. Number 326 was aligned perfectly with 325. The cut bled profusely, dripping down his abdomen. A towel on his lap kept the blood from staining his bedcovers. He held sterile gauze to it until the bleeding stopped and then taped another clean bandage over the cut. After wiping the blade clean with alcohol, he place it back in its box and then back in the night stand. 

All the pictures and reports were replaced in the manila folder then back in the safe. Lex crawled into bed, naked, and lay there. He was going to have to send Dominic for more sleeping pills. He couldn't go on with only two or three hours of sleep a day. Michael would chastise him for wanting the drugs, but Dominic would get them and be happy to tell Lionel about it. Lex didn't care anymore. He just wanted to sleep. 

* * *

Clark's thoughts drifted back to that day. The day that changed his life forever. 

Clark was waiting for Lex at the mansion. This was the day after he lost his virginity. The day after he confirmed the long furtive looks and casual, but not casual enough, touches were what he hoped. It was the day after Clark found that Lex also wanted more than friendship. That Clark wanted to kiss Lex and be kissed back. That he wanted to wrap himself around Lex and kiss every inch of him. And Lex had let him. 

Lex allowed Clark to do everything he wanted. His body was Clark's to explore and Clark left no patch of pale, beautiful skin untouched. Clark kissed and nipped his way down Lex's neck until he reached a hot, throbbing, pulse. Lex moaned and Clark sucked, feeling the blood flow just beneath the skin. Lex held Clark's mouth there, encouraging, needing. Clark pulled free and continued kissing his way down Lex's chest. His fingers roamed the hard muscle he found there and when he scraped his nails over rosy nipples, Lex called out his name. 

"Claaark." Lex pulled him up for a wet kiss, his tongue probing the boy's mouth, making it his own. 

When Clark reached for Lex's cock in a hesitant grasp, Lex had urged him on. The boy was shy, and Lex whispered to him. 

"God, Clark, yes, just like you would yourself. Ahhhhh." Lex leaned into the couch as Clark jacked him, roughly. There was no rhythm, just jerky strokes. Lex reached down and guided Clark's hand. Showed Clark the rhythm he enjoyed. Clark was a fast learner. Lex pushed the boys hair back off his forehead as Clark reached down to kiss him. Lex opened his mouth as it was Clark's turn to explore. Clark touched Lex's teeth with a tentative tongue, before plunging deeply into his mouth. So hot, so wet, so goooood. 

"So Close, Clark," Lex gasped. "Stop! Want you to come first." 

Clark released Lex's cock. Lex gently pushed him back on the couch. Lex nestled his head between Clark's thighs and tongued the head of Clark's cock, lapping up the copious amounts of pre-cum. Glorious taste. Taking the entire length into his mouth, Lex felt Clark tense. Lex knew Clark was on the edge. He ran his tongue up and down the vein on the underside of Clark's cock and then swirled around the head, delving into the slit. 

**"LEX . . ."**

The boy's body shook as he came, ribbons of cum shooting into Lex's mouth. Lex held Clark by his hips as he swallowed. God, so much he couldn't get it all. Cum dribbled down Lex's mouth and he swiped at it with his tongue. 

Then, three quick jacks of his own cock and Lex's cum spit hot onto Clark's belly. He lay on top of Clark, spent, tracing the boy's lips with his thumb, his heartbeat steadily slowing. 

"Lex." Clark whispered. 

"Uhmm?" 

"Will I get to kiss you some more?" 

"More than you just did? Clark, I don't think there's a spot on me where your lips didn't touch." 

Clark blushed. "Was it okay? I mean for my first . . . I mean I can learn. I'll get better." 

Lex looked into the boy's eyes and saw the self-doubt. Kissing both eyes, Lex said, "It was the best Clark. And it always gets better." 

Clark held Lex, still atop him, tightly around the waist. Lex allowed the continued contact because he knew Clark needed it. Needed to know it was more than sex. Clark finally let go of Lex and they pulled apart. Lex's semen had dried, leaving them in quite a mess. 

"We better get you home, Clark. It's late." Lex went into the bathroom off the study and returned in a silk robe. "You can clean up in there. I don't' want you going home smelling of sex." 

A few minutes later, lovers' parting kiss . . .Clark ran home. 

Clark's thoughts of yesterday were interrupted when Lionel strode into the study. 

Lionel had been looking for Lex, but this was even better. This farm boy whom Lex was infatuated with would be an even better target than his son. He tossed the envelope in Clark's lap and told him to open it and take a look. Take a good long look at what he was getting himself into. Oh, yes, Lex had always told everyone that his youth was misspent. Lex insisted all of that was behind him, now that he was an adult. Misspent doesn't say much without details. 

The details were right in front of Clark. Blackmail pictures and so called sealed' records from not too many years ago. Documents no one was ever supposed to see, not even Lex or Lionel. Documents Lionel had in his possession. Probably, always had. Clark shuddered with the thought. 

There were just so many. Would Lex even remember when many of these pictures were taken? Some were of Lex as young as 14 or so and as old as 19ish. Police pictures, crime scene pictures, pictures which looked like they were taken by a Private Investigator. Pictures Lionel may have arranged for. Candids from who knows where. All intended to show Lex as a teenager in all his horrific glory. 

There was a picture of what Clark assumed was Lex's Meth lab. A picture of Lex shooting up with heroin along with several other older men in a dark, dingy room. Pictures of Lex giving head in dark backrooms of various clubs. Pictures of him fucking younger boys and being fucked by old men. A picture of Lex being whipped with an expression of pure lust on his face and a hard cock. 

One especially enlightening picture was of Lex dressed as a girl with a long blonde wig and a plaid skirt, hiked up over his waist. A cock was up his ass while he was sucking on another. The owners of said cocks were cut out of the picture. But you could tell they were men in business suits. Lex was looking directly at the viewer as if he knew someone was taking his picture. The look on his young face was pure fuck you, Dad.' 

The written reports were just as bad. One report documented a near-fatal overdose of heroin. Another report was of an automobile accident where Lex had nearly killed four people in the other car. He had been drunk and high at the time. A rather long report of an extended session of S &M where the victim' had many small squares of his skin peeled off with a razor. The photo attached showed Lex and the older victim' covered in blood. No one cared that Lex was the minor in this fantasy. The drugged grin on Lex's face in the picture was maniacal, inhuman. 

Lionel smiled as Clark dropped the pictures and reports on the floor, aghast. 

"You still want to be my son's fuck toy?" Lionel laughed like the devil he was as Clark ran out of the castle. 

Lex had just stepped out of his car when Clark sped down the front steps and across the lawn. He saw Lex and stopped in front of him, needing something. His eyes were full of questions. 

"Clark! What's wrong?" Lex asked, concerned, touching Clark's left arm. 

Clark pulled away and took each of Lex's arms in his hands, holding them down by his side. He knew he had grasped the graceful lengths too hard when the sound of bones crushing reached his ears. Lex blanched in pain as Clark continued to hold him in place, his brain not understanding what he was doing. He needed to tell Lex he still loved him, but his tongue didn't work. 

Lex cried out in pain and Clark released his grip. Lex's arms dangled, uselessly, at his sides. Lionel ran down the steps toward his son and reached out to Lex as he fell on his knees beside the Porsche. Clark looked, grief stricken, at his nasty handiwork. He had hurt Lex. He had broken both his arms! Lionel pushed him away when Clark stooped to help, his brain still not fully cooperating. 

"Get the fuck away from my son, you monster!" 

Lex couldn't speak, he was barely conscious and Lionel screamed for the servants. Clark swallowed hard, then turned and ran out to the main road before bursting into super speed. 

4 

Once Clark reached the yellow farm house, he burst inside and ran up the stairs. Martha and Jonathan barely saw a blur as he went by. Martha's motherly instinct knew something was wrong. She had a feeling that Clark needed his father so she sent Jonathan upstairs. 

"Clark, what's wrong?" Jonathan knocked on the boy's bedroom door. He thought he could hear soft sobs. 

"Nothing." Clark pressed his head into his pillow to muffle his cries. 

Jonathan opened the door and went inside. He pulled Clark's desk chair around to the side of the bed. 

"Son, there's something obviously wrong. Talk to me. You'll feel better and we can work it out as a family." 

Clark rolled onto his back and looked up at his father. "I did something horrible today." His eyes grew dark and his voice dropped to a whisper. 

"Com'on son, what could be so bad? 

"I wasn't careful with my strength . . . and I broke Lex's arms." Clark shuddered at the memory. 

"Clark! You broke both arms? How did that happen? I'm sure it was an accident. How badly was he hurt? 

Clark shook his head, looking miserable. "I don't know, I ran away. Lionel was there and he was calling me a monster . . . I didn't mean to Dad." 

"Clark you shouldn't have been there in the first place. You know how I feel about you hanging around that Luthor." 

"Dad . . ." Clark was terrified of how his father would reach. His voice was almost inaudible. "I love him." 

"What did you just say?" Jonathan voice was eerily quiet as he pulled Clark up off the bed by his shirt. 

"Did Luthor force himself on you?" The rage in Jonathan's voice was building. 

"It wasn't like that, Dad. . . . he made love to me." 

Jonathan backhanded Clark so hard, the boy crumpled in the corner of his small bedroom. 

"Jonathan!" Martha appeared and rushed to Clark's side. 

"I'm okay, Mom. He can't hurt me." Clark got up and looked defiantly at his father. He had never been struck before. "Yeah, Dad, I sucked his cock. I took his cock up my ass." Clark chose his words for the best effect. "I loved it. I'd do it every day. And there's nothing you can do about it." 

The rage of feeling powerless built up in Jonathan. He he barely heard his son's speech. He swung his fist at Clark's face again, but the punch never landed. Clark caught his father's hand and pushed it back with such force he could hear ligaments popping. 

"Oh sweet Jesus." Jonathan cried out as he held his hand in pain, dropping back on the bed. 

"Jesus doesn't apply in my case, Dad. He died for human sins, not mine. There will be no salvation for me. Even if there were a small space in Heaven for an alien boy, it wouldn't have my name on it." 

"Clark, God loves you." Martha tried to hug her son, but Clark stepped away. 

"Right Mom. God loves liars. God loves aliens. Where am I mentioned in the Bible? God doesn't love queers. He doesn't love alien monsters who hurt people." 

Jonathan wiggled his fingers to show he was all right. "Quit this nonsense now, Clark. From now on, Lex is off limits. You are to stay away from him." 

"Oh don't worry, Dad. I'm sure right now Lex hates this faggot as much as you do." Clark ran out of the bedroom and out of the house. 

"Clark!" Martha called after him, but he didn't look back. 

* * *

The emergency room at Smallville General Hospital was busy. Clark searched the waiting room then the treatment rooms. He found Lex in Room 5, second door on his right. Peering through the glass window, he watched as Lex was being prepped for surgery. His blood chilled. Not only had he caused the damage, but Lex would have to undergo surgery to repair it. He knew Lex hated hospitals. He needed to get inside to comfort his lover, and apologize. Maybe he could win back Lex's love. 

Lionel was screaming something unintelligible at the surgeon. Clark darted inside while the room was empty of nurses and doctors. Lex was drifting in and out of a drug-induced unconsciousness. He was given a hefty dose of pain-killers to keep him calm. 

"Oh, Lex. I'm so sorry." Clark ran his finger down Lex's jaw and placed a chaste kiss on the man's forehead. "I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"But you did." Lionel said as he stepped back into Lex's room. "And what will my son think of his new lover now? The surgeon told me what kind of pressure it took to crush those bones. He had no explanation. So, tell me Clark. How did you do it? What's your secret? You know Lex can't resist a good secret." 

Clark backed up as Lionel came closer and closer. 

"You know, I have a file on you too." Lionel smiled provocatively. "I think Lex might enjoy it as much as you enjoyed his. But I might not be ready to show my poker hand." 

"I'll make him understand. I love him and he loves me." Clark's voice had a desperate edge to it. 

"Does he?" Lionel was so close now Clark could feel his hot breath. 

"There were a series of diary entries that weren't included in what I gave you." Lionel crooned. 

"It seems that sometimes poor Lex is so lonely only his father can soothe him. All that pale, smooth skin . . . Well, of course you understand what I'm saying. You know my son has a beautiful body. And it's mine whenever I want it. Lex will never give up what we have together." 

Clark was dumbstruck. He had to get away from this evil man and he couldn't go home. And he had hurt Lex badly. Clark had to get away; he needed time to think. He tore past Lionel who laughed hysterically behind him as he ran out of the hospital and out of Smallville. 

Clark continued to run. Until here he was, sitting outside a convenience store eating other people's trash. Clark, the alien. Clark, the monster. 

5 

Clark sat at the bench reading the personals in the San Francisco newspaper. Every so often, his family, with Lex's money, he was sure, would place a personal ad begging him to call. In the beginning he almost did, once. But as the days went by, it became harder to come up with a reason as to why he'd waited so long. What was different now as opposed to two months ago, or four months ago? He had hurt Lex, physically. He was a monster. Nothing changed that fact. 

The paper he was reading was a week old, and there inside was another personal plea for Clark to get in touch with his family. 

Clark, please call home, collect. We love you, always. Everything will be alright. There is nothing that we can't solve together. Mom, Dad, AJL.' 

Folding the paper, he tossed it in the nearest trash can. He was in a small town called Sunglow, where the soup kitchen was run by St. Joseph's church. Attached was a small shelter for the homeless. Clark had been there over a week, helping out where he could. 

Hundreds of pounds of donated flour went into his biscuits and the homemade bread another volunteer made. Clark made biscuits; good ones. Watching his mother make them all his life made it easy. He always left the kitchen covered head to toe in flour. 

You'll make a good husband someday'. 

He heard that a lot, but knew it wasn't true. He was a monster, remember? He would crush anyone he touched; anyone he held. 

John Lowell was a young pastor who was assigned to St. Joseph's. John was 6 foot with short blond hair which always seemed to be sticking out somewhere on his head. His warm brown eyes and honest smile welcomed Clark the first time the boy had stepped into the shelter looking for a place to sleep. Clark liked him because he didn't ask questions or preach to him. John treated Clark and all the other hapless people as human beings, which wasn't always the case in some places Clark had been. 

John was as good at poker as he was at subduing a 250-pound, drunk. The pastor had no illusions about being able to help everyone who came through the doors. Some people just weren't ready to be helped. 

"Clark," John said tapping the boy on the shoulder as he swept the floor. "These just came in and I think they're your size." 

He held out a pair of new looking cross trainers in a rather large size. Clark took them and looked at the size. His face broke into a wide smile. 

"Wow, these are great! I can wear thick socks with them. Thanks a lot." 

"There are also quite a few clothing items in the big and tall' range that might fit you," John said, as he looked Clark over. The boy had gained a few pounds in the days he had been there, but was still painfully thin. 

"I'll take a look when I'm finished here." Clark returned to sweeping under the rows of tables. 

John tousled Clark's hair and went back to sorting clothing donations. 

Later that evening, when most people had gone to bed, Clark went outside and lay down on a bench in the church's garden. The new clothes he had picked out felt good against his skin. Gazing up at the stars, he wondered what his friends were doing right now. 

Were Chloe and Pete studying for a test in biology? Was Lana closing up the Talon, getting ready to go home? Were his parents going over bills again, wondering how they would keep the farm afloat? At least they didn't have his food bill anymore. They never complained, but his sudden growth spurts always took a toll on the budget. New clothes cost money, even cheap ones. 

And Lex, what would he be doing now? Was he making love with someone who didn't crush his bones? Kissing and caressing someone who couldn't snap his neck with one quick squeeze? Whispering sweet words of affection as they climaxed together? Holding his lover tightly as they drifted off to sleep? 

Clark sat up and began to cry, his sobs becoming deeper and more wrenching as the seconds passed. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist and drew him into a tight embrace. John stroked his hair and wiped the tears from his cheeks. They rocked back and forth as Clark's tears subsided. 

"It's okay, shushhhh." John tried to comfort the lost soul. "Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. Nothing." 

John continued to stroke Clark's back and pet his head. The wracking sobs slowed, and then stopped. Clark looked into John's eyes then reached out and kissed him softly, tracing John's lips with his tongue. Clark's tongue darted inside the man's mouth, seeking out warmth, tenderness. John pulled back, slowly, breaking the kiss. 

"I'm sorry," Clark said, terrified that he had alienated his new friend. "I thought you were . . . I thought I felt . . ." 

"Shushhhh," John said gently. "I'm gay." John pulled Clark's head to his chest and held the boy tight. "But, Clark, you don't love me. I like you and want to help you if you'll let me. But I won't have sex with you." 

Clark didn't move from the embrace. His body ached for human contact. He buried his head in John's shoulder and swayed to and fro as they rocked. 

Minutes, maybe hours passed, Clark didn't know. He sat up, pulling himself out of John's embrace. He wiped his face with the tail of his shirt. 

"Feeling better?" John asked. 

Clark nodded. 

"Do you want to go in and talk about it?" 

Clark nodded again. They got up off the bench and went back inside the shelter. 

6 

They sat in the kitchen, holding mugs of coffee. John was quiet as Clark told him everything. About his family and being adopted. Clark talked about his unusual abilities and the green meteorites, which made town mutants, but made him a mutant and sick. He told how he always felt out of place. About the secrets he had to keep from everyone and how much that hurt. He talked about his friends from school. How he saved Lex from the river, his friendship with Lex. Clark spoke of Lionel and his hatred for him. About the packet of pictures and reports and the disgust he had held for his friend at that moment. About his shame for feeling that way and how quickly the disgust had changed to compassion. But most important, he talked about his love for Lex and the accidental breaking of his arms. 

John listened quietly. He understood living with secrets. He had kept his sexual orientation quiet for most of his life. Gay clerics were being run out of their churches. But Clark had more on his shoulders than just being gay. Family responsibilities weighed heavily, more than they probably should. Being in love with one of the world's richest and most powerful men, well, that was immense. But, this mutant thing? He didn't know quite what to think of that. Clark obviously believed it. 

"Now, I just can't call, it's been too long." Clark looked up from his coffee cup. "And Lex hates me. I just wouldn't know what to say." 

"Clark, you can call. All you have to do is pick up the phone. And you don't know how Lex feels. You haven't given him the chance to tell you. Believe me, you don't have to know what to say, they will start talking." 

Just then the floor started to rumble and their coffee cups skittered across the table. The sound was nothing like Clark had ever heard. Not even tornados generated the earth splitting sound of the foundations cracking beneath his feet. He stood, but it was difficult to keep his balance. 

"Earthquake!" John yelled, running into the sleeping quarters from the kitchen. 

John started rousing the sleeping people as the walls began to move in waves like they were fluid. Once awake, there was chaos. The residents ran outside to avoid the crumbling walls. The ceiling started to collapse and Clark moved into position to hold up a large portion of it. 

"Get these people out of here!" Clark called to John. Clark reached out and put a hand against the wall to help keep the ceiling and wall from falling. 

Just as quickly as it had started, the quake was over. The ground stopped shaking, but plaster continued to drift down from the ceiling. Clark quickly moved, so the section of the ceiling he was propping up could fall. 

Someone screamed from the kitchen and Clark ran back to find one of the stoves blazing. A volunteer cook was trapped under a weight-bearing beam and Clark lifted it so the man could crawl from beneath it. Clark sped outside to look for the main gas line. His X-ray vision found it on the south side of the building and he sped to turn it off. The stove began to flicker and finally burned itself out. 

"Clark, Clark!" John called to him. "Where are you? Are you okay?" John coughed as the debris continued to settle. Just then another rumble, much smaller than the original one, moved the floor slightly. John covered his mouth and nose with the hem of his tee-shirt. 

"Yeah, I'm okay." Clark grabbed John's arm and led him out of the building. 

"How did you keep the ceiling up? It must have weighed a ton." 

"Oh, adrenaline, I guess. I didn't have time to think about it. Here, let's see to the others." 

Sirens wailed all around them. Clark started to check on the evacuated people, stepping through the rubble. Thankfully the walls were still standing, but a portion of the roof had fallen through. Once outside, John stopped him. 

"No, I don't think it was adrenaline. It's something else. This is the strength you were talking about, isn't it?" John held Clark by the shoulders. Clark nodded, his eyes reflecting his fear of his powers being seen in action. 

The residents were crowding in on them, trying to get their hands on Clark, proclaiming him their savior, their knight in shining armor. Clark was surrounded by thankful people, trying to touch him, smother him. 

"I have to go, John, you can take care of everything now." Clark said with a tremor in his voice. 

He couldn't stand the people crowding in on him. Pushing through the grateful mass, he quickly walked until he was out of sight. The earthquake caused a lot of property damage, but it didn't look like anyone was killed at the church. He was glad for that. The town could have used his help in cleaning up, but he couldn't chance anyone else seeing his abilities. Sighing, he sped East, out of the state. 

* * *

Miracle in Small Town California' the headline read. Lex's heart began to beat faster as he read the short snippet about a super-strong Guardian Angel saving many lives at a church and homeless shelter in Northern California. He was reading news articles on the Internet. 

Who else could hold up the ceiling weighing thousands of pounds? And. Not. Get. Hurt. And is able to walk away unscathed? 

Lex stood and walked to gaze out the castle's window. He called his assistant, Michael on his cell phone. 

"Michael, call and have the jet prepped. I'm going to California. Have the helicopter pick us up in an hour." 

7 

Lex didn't tell the Kents about his trip. He didn't want to get their hopes up, but he felt this was their best lead ever. Sunglow, population 36,000, was 146 miles northeast of San Francisco. The town had a small airport that the jet could land at. Lex tried to attend to some paperwork he had brought along on the flight, but his thoughts wouldn't let him. 

Clark why did you run away? If I could just get my arms around you, hold you, kiss you, I could make you understand. Make you understand that I will never be like that again. I know those pictures were horrifying, sickening, like the reports. But that's not me anymore. Please, please, forgive me. I would never, ever hurt you. 

Lex closed his eyes. 

The pilot announced their approach to the airport, and Lex jumped at the voice on the intercom. He had fallen asleep. Putting his papers away, he gave his briefcase to Michael. 

"I didn't get anything done. Take care of the most pressing business. There isn't anything here that you can't handle." 

Michael took the case and settled back into his seat, looking intently at his employer. 

"You will find him." Michael said softly. "And you'll bring him home." 

Lex nodded solemnly and fastened his seatbelt for landing. 

* * *

Lex drove up to St. Joseph's church in a black BMW X-5, SUV he had rented. It had only been a day since the earthquake, but much of the rubble had been removed since the picture he had seen was taken. Lex jumped out of the vehicle and straightened his black v-neck cashmere sweater. A lavender silk shirt was buttoned high on his neck under the sweater. He wore comfortable fitting, but expensive, black jeans. Black steel-toed boots completed his ensemble. 

Lex surveyed the damage and asked one of the volunteers handing out coffee if Pastor Lowell was around. A finger pointed across the lot to a young man pushing a wheelbarrow of plaster and rock out of the rubble. 

"Sir . . . Pastor Lowell," Lex called to him as he worked his way carefully through the mess. 

John set the load down and watched as Lex approached him. He wiped his forehead and slapped his hands on his pants to get the dust off of them. 

"Call me John," He reached his hand out and Lex shook it strongly. "You must be Lex Luthor." 

"Yes." Lex was a bit surprised, but probably shouldn't have been. "I'm looking for a friend who I think might have been here. Clark Kent, tall, dark hair, 16 . . ." He wanted to add beautiful' and my lover', but didn't. 

"Clark mentioned you. He left yesterday. Doesn't seem to like the limelight. He saved a lot of people here." John started toward the truck that was handing out coffee. 

"Yes, that's Clark, always saving someone." Lex followed John as he walked toward the van with the coffee and sandwiches. 

"Are you hungry?" John asked. 

Lex shook his head and John took a couple of coffees from the volunteer. He led Lex to the dining hall, which was pretty much cleared out. They sat and Lex waited for John to speak. 

"He was here for about 10 days but pretty much kept to himself." John said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

"How is he? Is he okay?" Lex asked. "I need to find him. His parents are grief-stricken." 

"I think he was more worried about you, Lex." John sipped his coffee. He gazed into Lex's eyes, trying to read what was there. But Lex had kept his face expressionless, cool. 

"Yes, well . . ." 

"He told me what had happened, Lex. The pictures and reports . . . Your father took him by surprise with them." 

"I know." Lex whispered, his face paling. 

"But he ran because he hurt you, not because of what he saw. He's frightened that everyone thinks of him as a monster. That's what he calls himself. A monster." 

Lex thought about this for a moment. Clark ran because of his broken arms? That was an accident. 

"He loves you, you know." There it was, simply stated. 

Lex looked at the pastor and smiled ever so slightly. "I love him too." 

"I don't know where he went, Lex." John offered. "Clark was pretty much in a hurry to get out of here after the earthquake. He didn't want people thinking too much about what he had done. He said that he's unusually strong and fast due to some sort of mutation from meteors?" 

"That's something else entirely," Lex said. "But I don't believe he's a mutant. He's never come clean with me on that topic." 

Lex rose to leave. He was at a dead end again. No one knew where Clark would go next. 

"He does read the personals you've been putting in newspapers. I told him that he should call. Give you and his family a chance. But he's frightened. I couldn't get him past that." 

John walked Lex to his SUV. Lex turned before opening the door, sure of what he felt about John. 

"Did he . . . did you . . ." Lex stammered, uncharacteristically. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, lowering his eyes. 

"No, we didn't." John looked him directly in the eyes deciding to keep Clark's advances to himself. "But he's been very desperate at times. He's been on the streets . . . earning street money." 

Lex turned toward the SUV's door so John wouldn't see his face. He was furious, and knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. Didn't want to envision Clark on the streets, on his knees . . . Stepping up into the vehicle Lex put his expressionless face back on, turned and thanked John, shaking his hand. 

Returning to the plane, Lex flopped down in one of the leather lounge chairs. He instructed Michael to send the church a donation of $2 million for repairs and extension of their services for the homeless. During the flight home, Lex penned a new personals ad to run in the newspapers. 

Clark, I'm not hurt. Let me help you. Please call my personal line. AJL' 

8 

Fingers trembling, Clark held the receiver to his ear as he dialed the operator. 

"Uh, I'd like to make a collect call, please." He waited for the operator to ask the number. Acid was destroying his stomach. His lungs were tight in fear. Was this right? Jesus, what was he doing? Was the ad true? Could Lex possibly love him? "Operator, yes the number is area code 913-555-5577." He waited as the operator placed the call. "M . . .myy . . . my name is Clark, operator." 

A man answered the line and when the operator said she had a collect call from Clark, the man would not accept the charges. He said he didn't know anyone named Clark. The operator apologized to Clark and the line went dead. Clark recognized the voice. It was Lionel. 

Clark replaced the receiver on the pay phone and slid down in the booth, tears rolling down his face. Was this a joke? He had called Lex's cell phone. The one the personals always told him to call. The one picked up by an answering service if Lex didn't answer it himself. This one never went to voice mail. Why would Lex have Lionel answering that line? Surely he hadn't forgiven his father. Hell, maybe he was all wrong again. Maybe Lex was teasing him by having Lionel take his calls. The ultimate fuck you, Clark, for hurting me.' 

After a few minutes, he stood and stepped out of the phone booth at the gas station. He would stop reading the personals. Obviously, Lex didn't care about him, or he would never allow Lionel to answer his private line. Clark searched the trash can next to the station, but finding nothing he could bring himself to eat, he continued walking south. 

* * *

Lex was surprised to find Lionel at the mansion when he returned home from a long meeting at LexCorp. 

"What are you doing here? I told you that you weren't welcome." Lex removed his gloves and overcoat and strode directly to the bar. 

"I was waiting for you, Lex. Did you find the poor runaway during your trip last week?" Lionel asked, his voice dripping with insincerity. He continued to look at a magazine. 

"Get out, Dad." Lex threw back a rather large amount of scotch. The liquid burned a welcome trail down his throat. He poured himself another before turning to look at his father. 

"Oh, by the way, Lex. I have some news for you." 

"I'm sure I don't care. Now get out." Lex walked toward his father and stopped a few feet from his chair. 

"Your boy' called a few days ago. He was calling collect, but I couldn't accept the charges. It was your phone, after all. You might object to the expense and then, I would have to pay for the call." Lionel's eyes were dancing with fire, his mouth curled in a devilish smile. 

Lex dropped his glass, the amber liquid splashing out onto the carpet, shards of crystal flying. His face turned deathly pale. 

"What did you say?" Lex was trembling as he stood in front of his father. 

"Why Lex. You know that I have one of your private cell phone lines. I just answered it one afternoon before the service did. It did ring quite a few times. Why didn't you answer it?" 

Lex couldn't process what he was hearing. He'd been waiting nearly a year for Clark to phone and when he finally did, his fucking father wouldn't accept the collect call. He had only turned the phone off once in the past two weeks. It was during an OSHA inspection of the plant and had only been for an hour and a half. 

"Michael!" Lex screamed for his assistant. 

Michael appeared at the doorway to the study, looking rather anxious. Lex never screamed. 

"Show my father to the door. If he resists, call the police. He's trespassing. This castle is mine, mother left it to me. And I don't want him on the grounds. Ever." 

Michael moved toward Lionel, but Lionel was already up and walking toward the door. 

"Don't worry, Lex," Lionel said dryly. "I'm sure the Kent boy will call again." 

"Get Out!" Lex screamed again charging at his father. Michael put himself between Lionel and Lex. 

"No, Lex let him go." Michael blocked Lex and held onto his shoulders. 

Lionel snickered and left the mansion. 

* * *

In honor of these newly disclosed developments, Lex chose to add ten new cuts to his chest that night. 

9 

Twice a week Martha took a freshly baked pie to Lex's mansion. Sometimes she would take apple, sometimes she would take cherry or blackberry. It was her excuse to talk to Lex in person. Lex saw it for what it was. It was a chance to talk about Clark with someone other than Jonathan. 

Martha set the pie on the kitchen counter, before giving him a hug. "Goodness Lex, you're losing weight!" 

"Maybe a couple of pounds, not as much as you think." Lex stiffened, knowing he had lost at least 20 pounds off his already lean frame since Clark left. "Your pies help keep me fattened up." He said trying, but failing, to be humorous. 

"Haven't heard from him?" Martha was wistful, sitting at the counter as Lex offered her coffee. 

Lex dare not tell the Kents about what Lionel had done with the phone call. If Jonathan killed his father, he wouldn't mind, really. It was at Martha's request that Lex placed the ads with only his name in them a couple of months ago. She knew Clark was upset with Jonathan, even though Lex had told them about the information which had been dropped into Clark's lap. Again, Lionel in action. 

Jonathan had allowed Lex to pay for a hired hand to help at the farm while Clark was away. There was no way Jonathan could say no. He couldn't make a go of the farm without help and he couldn't afford to pay anyone. Lex was grateful for the chance to help. 

Martha finished her coffee and started toward the kitchen door. Suddenly she reached out and touched Lex's shirt. Her fingers had blood on them. 

"Lex, what happened, you're bleeding?" Her voice was full of concern as she tried to touch him again. 

Lex stepped back, grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his chest. His voice faltered, but he recovered quickly. "Oh, I just scratched myself yesterday. It must have re-opened. Nothing to be concerned about." 

"Can I help you with it?" Martha asked. "It needs bandaging." 

"No, really. It just needs a band-aid. I'm fine." 

"Okay, but be sure to put some antibiotic ointment on it." Martha, always the mother. 

"Of course, Martha. Thanks. And thanks for the pie." 

Lex hustled her out the door and went upstairs to his bathroom. Fuck! The cuts from last night were deeper than usual. His hand had faltered in his anger. Once his shirt was off, he wiped up the dried blood and put a couple of sterile pads on the three that were still bleeding. A little tape held them in place. 

He traced the tiny scars with his forefinger. Each day Clark was gone. The earliest ridges were beginning to fade away completely. As he traced his way down his skin, a shudder went straight to his cock. He moaned softly and sank to his knees in front of the full length-mirror. 

Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, he pushed them and his briefs to the floor. He grabbed his swollen cock and slid his left hand around it while his right hand continued to caress the scars on his chest. Lex jacked his cock roughly, needing pain at this moment. He cried out as he moved his right hand to press a finger into his hole. Fire shot up his spine. He continued to fuck himself on his finger as he clutched his cock tightly. Lex watched his image in the mirror. The reflection wasn't hot. Wasn't erotic. It was painfully pathetic. 

He continued to stroke his cock, swirling his thumb around and over the head. Tasting his own pre-cum, he felt the tension well up inside himself. He was close, so close. Then, Lex stopped. He let go of his cock and removed his finger from his ass. His cock, stiff and purple with blood, pulsating with need. Lex grabbed himself tightly around his balls and cock to prevent himself from coming. He shut his eyes and moaned. 

Lex fell sideways from his knees and curled up. He softly called Clark's name. Aching cock and balls, needing release, but he denied them. It was everything he could do to turn the shower on cold and drag himself to the side of it. His cock still begged him, but he ignored it and rolled himself up and over the two-foot glass block entrance. The cold, stinging sheets of water seemed to hiss and evaporate as they hit his hot body, curled up on the floor of the shower. Soon, his erection was a thing of the past. 

10 

Clark reached Las Vegas, dirty and hungry. At least it was warm here, even though it was only March. Clark had never seen anything quite like this city. He walked down the strip at midnight and it seemed like day time, there was so much light. Everywhere, people were trying to stuff cards and small papers into his hands. They advertised good times,' peep shows, topless, bottomless and any other less' you could think of. The streets were littered with this paper junk.   
After the first 20 paper hustlers stuffed their wares in his hands, he learned how to look straight ahead and ignore them. 

Each hotel and casino seemed to beckon to him with their ca-ching, ca-ching of the slot machines. The noisiest machines were always near the entrances. From the doorways he could see buxom waitresses in skimpy outfits, mirroring the casino's theme, serving drinks to the patrons. Clark's eyes were as big as saucers as he took it all in. Sin City. Wow! 

Just inside one of the casinos, Clark bought a huge hotdog and a Coke for 50 cents. He had a few dollars he'd earned helping a rancher in northern Nevada repair a fence. But he still had to be careful. It wouldn't last long. But, God, he was hungry all the time. Small towns in Nevada don't offer homeless shelters. He sat on a bench and slowly ate his hotdog, watching the people go by. 

A few minutes later the hotdog vendor came out with a white deli sack. 

"Young man, would you like to have these? I'm clearing out some that have been on the grill a little too long, but they're still good. I'd be throwing them out, otherwise." The man smiled at Clark. 

"Yes, thank you very much." Clark blushed as he tentatively reached for the sack. 

"No problem," the man paused before continuing. "My daughter ran away two years ago. I haven't heard from her at all. I just like to think someone helps her from time to time." 

"That obvious, huh?" Clark asked, looking away, blushing, embarrassed at his filthy condition. 

"Yeah. Just be careful, here. Okay? This can be a rough city." 

"Yeah, I will. And thanks again for the hotdogs." Clark clutched the bag tightly. 

The vendor went back inside the casino. 

Clark quickly ate a second hotdog and a bag of chips he discovered inside the bag. There was also a brownie, which Clark decided to hang on to for later, along with the other two hotdogs and another bag of potato chips. 

Leaving the comfort of the bench, Clark walked on. There were so many people out, even at this hour. He turned into the first small street he came to, which quickly turned into the area where the hustlers' advertisements became reality. Clubs lined the block on both sides of the street. These dark, dingy caves were nothing like Club Zero, although the entertainment inside held its own curiosity for Clark. 

The bouncer at the Paradise Club didn't ask for ID and Clark slipped in. Naked dancers, male and female writhed and slithered on the stage. Clark had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined anything like this. He blushed and headed for the restrooms to clean up a little. There were strange noises coming from both the men's and the women's restrooms. Inside the men's, something very passionate was going in one of the stalls. Clark washed his face and hair in the sink. He listened in fascination as the moans and grunts in the stall grew louder. Skin slapping against skin until a cry of release followed by another crying out of a name Clark couldn't catch. He was still drying his hair with paper towels when two men came out of the stall, adjusting their clothing. 

"Ooooh, isn't he pretty, Ben?" said a dark haired man with platinum highlights. He licked his lips as he blatantly moved his eyes up and down Clark's body. 

"Could use some clean clothes, Jake." Ben had long light brown hair and lots of body piercing. He moved closer to Clark. With a feral look on his face, he reached out to touch Clark's face, but Clark slapped his hand away. He was careful not to seriously injure the young man. 

"I don't want any trouble," Clark warned, throwing the paper towels in the trash. The two men kept pressing him backward. Clark continued to step back until he was flat against a wall. 

Someone tried to enter the bathroom, but Jake held the door shut. "Closed for cleaning, right now." 

The would-be intruder pounded on the door a few times, and then left. 

"Trouble? Who wants trouble?" Ben reached out again and traced a finger down Clark's jaw line. 

Clark grimaced, but kept his hands at his sides. Music blared from the club and he started to panic. He didn't want to hurt these guys, he just wanted out of there. They looked like they had plans for Clark. Plans he wasn't prepared to participate in. He super sped around them, pushed Jake aside, and yanked the door off its hinges. He had meant only to open the door. 

Jake was thrown against the wall. Crumpling to the floor, he fell into unconsciousness. 

"Fuck, you knocked him out, you freak." Ben screamed, kneeling beside his lover, wiping blood from a small cut on Jake's forehead. 

Quickly X-raying him, Clark saw a couple of cracked ribs, but no skull injury. "He'll be okay. He has two cracked ribs; better take him to a clinic, though." 

Clark ran from the bathroom, normal speed. Ben chased after him screaming that Clark had killed his boyfriend. Once outside, Clark walked quickly down the street away from the commotion behind him. 

Suddenly two police officers stepped out in front of him, blocking his way. 

"What's your name son?" The older one with the name Bellows on his uniform asked. 

"Uh, Cl . . . Clark." He stammered, looked to the other cop named Lewis. "Have I done something wrong?" 

"There seems to have been a disturbance back there. We were already here. Came to check it out." Lewis gave Clark the once over. "How old are you?" 

"Uh, 18." Clark ventured, hoping he could pass for that. "They started it. I was just trying to get away from them." 

"Yeah, they have rap sheets." Bellows said. "Said they wouldn't press charges if you didn't, but we're still taking them in. Hmmm, sure you're 18? Well, Clark, how long have you been on your own?" 

"For awhile," Clark hedged. 

"I don't think you're 18 and you look somewhat distressed. We're going to take you down to Children's Services. You can get a shower there and they'll get you some clean clothes." Bellows took Clark by the elbow and started to lead him to the patrol car. 

Something visceral tightened around Clark's stomach. Panicking, he resisted. Would they fingerprint him? Did he have fingerprints that were normal? Would he end up with a mug shot taken? He knew there had to be a missing persons report out on him. He certainly didn't want to be found in jail. There was no way he could let himself be taken into custody. 

Clark twisted and pulled away from Bellows hand. In doing so, two of Bellows' fingers cracked. 

"Jesus, Lewis, stop him!" Bellows clutched his hand. He dipped into the police car and called for backup. 

Clark kept running until he was over the Rocky Mountains and striding down into the Denver area. 

11 

It was still dark as Clark came to an apartment complex with long rows of garages, carports, really. Seeing no security cameras, he entered and found a dark corner behind the storage lockers where he would not be seen, even in the morning. He took his sack of hotdogs out of his backpack and set it aside. Curling up on the asphalt, he used his pack as a pillow. 

Once again, he had hurt someone unintentionally. Yes, they were coming on to him. They wanted him. He searched his mind trying to find something he'd done to encourage them, lead them on, but he knew he hadn't done anything. There must be something in him, some message his body gives off, that he's unaware of; just another check mark in the monster side of his scorecard. And those cops. More broken bones. Monster. 

A soft whisper left his lips as he fell asleep. "Lex . . ." 

Clark woke to the starting of car engines as the apartment residents went off to work. His corner was still sheltered from sight. He sat up. It was pretty bad when you could actually smell yourself and Clark knew he desperately needed a bath and to wash his clothes. He lay back down. 

* * *

Clark was suddenly awakened by a touch on his arm. Startled, he jumped upright. 

"Heeey, take it easy." Said a young man with golden hair, dressed in a suit. "I'm not going to hurt you." 

"Uhhh, I was just leaving," Clark said as he picked up his deli sack and his back-pack. 

"Wait." The young man looked him over, hesitating, as if trying to make a decision. "My name's Thomas." He held out his right hand. 

"My name's Clark," Clark rubbed his hand on his shirt then grasped Thomas' outstretched hand and shook it gently. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be any trouble. I'll be on my way." 

Thomas didn't want this boy to go. He felt sorry for him. Jesus! Was he an idiot? He couldn't bring this guy into his house. This Clark kid might be a crazed killer. But the sight of him: scared, dirty, rags just hanging on him, tore at his heart. Shit, he'd never even picked up a hitchhiker before! But something in his gut told him this was the right thing to do. 

"Clark, why don't we go upstairs to my apartment? I can offer you a shower and some breakfast." He smiled his warmest, most sincere smile. 

Clark was unsure. Usually people just wanted to get away from him. Ignore him, at best. Something about this man made Clark feel at ease. He didn't look dangerous, but Clark could take care of himself. 

"Okay." Clark finally answered. 

"Great," Thomas led him out of the carport and across the parking lot. He entered the 2nd building on the right and walked up to the second floor and entered the apartment on the right hand side of the stairs. 

The apartment was nice, but modest. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen with a eat-at counter, and a living room with a small dining area near the kitchen. At the end of the living room there were sliding glass doors which led out onto a small balcony. A hanging basket with a dead plant in it hung from the roof. 

Clark noticed the simple, but comfortable-looking furniture. A couch with worn arms and a recliner that looked fairly new were positioned around an expensive entertainment center. Some of the stereo equipment looked similar to what Lex had.. There was a 26-inch flat screen TV on the top shelf with a DVD player and a VHS machine tucked away in the center. 

On one wall were a Broncos poster and a framed picture of some player in uniform shaking hands with a man. He saw the same woman in a photo on one of the end tables. 

"Put your backpack anywhere. Is there food in your sack?" Thomas reached for the sack. 

"No." Clark quickly pulled back, not wanting to give up his precious hotdogs. 

"Hey, its okay, I just want to put your food in the refrigerator so it won't go bad." Thomas' voice was soft, reassuring. 

Why is this guy helping me? Clark was still worried, but he handed the white sack to Thomas. 

After putting the sack in the refrigerator, Thomas went into one of the bedrooms. A couple of minutes later he came back with a couple of towels and some clothes. 

"These clothes might fit. I used to be heavier." He handed them to Clark and showed him toward the bathroom. "I'll make some breakfast. Do you like scrambled eggs and bacon? That's my limit for breakfast cooking." 

"Uhh, sure." Clark said. This was overwhelming. 

"Oh, don't worry. Everything is okay." Thomas pulled out several pans, making quite the racket. 

Clark stepped into the bathroom and locked the door. God, but he was disgusting. His clothes practically fell apart as he took them off. There was so much grime on his body, the hot spray and soap didn't seem to be making a dent in it. When he rubbed his skin with a washcloth, the top layer was sloughing off. He turned the water temperature down because it was burning the new tender skin that was revealed. Wow. Real shampoo rinsed out so much better than hand soap in restrooms. Thomas even had some conditioner, which Clark guiltily used. With his now shoulder length hair, he hoped the conditioner would make it easier to comb. 

When he was finished, the large fluffy towel was heavenly. His skin was tender and he dried himself off carefully. 

"There are extra disposable shavers in the cabinet and I think there's also a new toothbrush which hasn't been opened." Thomas called from outside the bathroom. 

"Thanks," Clark answered. He quickly shaved and brushed his teeth. He arranged his hair with his fingers since he didn't have a comb. 

The clothes wouldn't have fit him at his normal weight. But since he was so thin, they were okay. The tee-shirt fit fine, but the jeans were a bit short. Clark felt good to be in clean clothes. 

He walked toward the kitchen. 

"Wow." Thomas was laying bacon strips onto paper towels. "I can't believe you're the same person I saw just a few minutes ago." 

"Thanks," Clark blushed. "It's nice to have clean clothes." 

"I'm sure." Thomas' expression changed as he scooped the eggs out onto two plates. He put the plates of eggs and the platter of bacon on the counter. Then he looked at Clark. 

"The man in the picture with the football; is he your friend?" 

"Yes. Freddie was my friend." he gestured toward the picture on the end table. "He died two years ago." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Clark said. He reached out and touched Thomas' arm. 

"Friend, yes. Lover, yes. Freddie was my life partner." Thomas looked away and took two mugs out  
of the cupboard. "He loved football." He smiled at the memory. 

Shit! Clark felt like the biggest idiot. Why did he always have to ask personal questions? 

"Freddie died of AIDS, Clark." Thomas poured two cups of coffee and placed them on the counter. He was afraid Clark might leave. Sometimes people didn't want to be around him when they found out he'd had a partner with AIDS. 

Clark sat down at the counter and took two strips of bacon from the platter. Thomas sat down also and began eating. He was thankful for Clark's acceptance of him. 

"These are great eggs," Clark said eyeing what was left in the pan. 

"Go ahead, finish them up," Thomas said. "I can fry up some more bacon if you like." 

"No, that's okay." Clark really wanted to say yes, but didn't want to appear greedy. He put his plate in the sink and poured himself another cup of coffee. His stomach was still growling. Clark turned back to the counter and took Thomas' empty plate to the sink. 

"Thanks." 

"Don't you have to go to work?" Clark asked, assuming he would have to leave soon. 

"No. I called and told them I wouldn't be in. Car trouble, my 89 Chevy wouldn't start . . . again. They're used to that excuse. I'm going to change. Make yourself at home." 

With that, Thomas left the room. 

Clark went to the refrigerator and took out his deli bag. He quickly ate the hotdogs, chips and brownie. Only then, did his stomach quit growling. For the first time in a long time, Clark felt sated. 

Clark sat down on the couch and waited for Thomas. His mind drifted. He felt sorry for Thomas. To lose a friend, lover, must have been horrible. AIDS. He'd learned a lot about the disease in school. Safe sex, etc. He knew it was a horrible way to die. 

God, if he ever lost Lex . . . What was he thinking? He had lost Lex. 

12 

Lex was awakened by a stinging backhand to the side of his face. Before he could open his eyes, he was being dragged up from the couch by the edges of his unbuttoned shirt. Another blow sent him sprawling to the floor. Lionel loomed over him like a black panther. 

"I thought I told you never to step foot in here again." Lex said struggling to keep his voice even. He wiped at the blood starting to trickle down his cheek. Where the fuck was Michael? 

Lionel kneeled over him, straddling his waist. He scraped his nails over the scars and fresh cuts on Lex's chest. 

"What is this?" Lionel growled. He clawed at the fresh wounds making them seep again. 

Lex twisted under his father's cruel fingers. But the pain was fiery, satisfyingly rapturous. 

"It's my little tribute to you, Dad." Lex sneered. "Now get off me!" Lex bucked, trying to dislodge Lionel. 

"You are a very sick boy, Lex." Lionel pinned Lex's shoulders to the floor with both hands. 

"Like father like son." Lex bucked again and broke Lionel's grip on him. He rolled to one side and was able to get to his feet seconds before Lionel. 

Just then, Lex's personal cell phone rang. He looked hard at his father before walking around the desk to pick up the phone. 

"Lex Luthor." His breathing was heavy. 

"Uh, hello. My name is Thomas Connor. I have someone here I think you're looking for." 

"Clark?" Lex's voice trailed off, no longer concerned about his father. 

"Yes. He's in my living room right now. I found this number with his things. I know I'm betraying his trust, but he's just a kid . . ." 

"Yes, yes. Where are you? Is he all right? Oh god!" Lex's voice was shaky. "Can I talk to him? No . . . wait." 

"Mr. Luthor, I live outside of Denver. The boy's very skittish. I don't know if that's a good idea. He'll know I've been through his things. It will take trust to keep him here." 

"I can be there in three hours. Give me your address." Lex scribbled it down and closed his phone. 

"Ahh, young Kent has been found." Lionel sat down on the couch with a glass of brandy. "Do you think he's forgiven you for your past indiscretions? I think he would have been home long before now if he had." 

Ignoring him, Lex called Michael on the phone. 

"Where the hell are you? I need the plane readied now! Dom? Don't worry about it. You couldn't have known. The helicopter is here. Yes, Dad's here. I'll be at the airport in 40 minutes. Denver." 

"So, you used Dominic to keep Michael occupied?" 

"Yes, and I'm sure Michael didn't mind at all." Lionel took a sip of his brandy. 

"You better not be here when I get back." Lex put his cell phone in his pocket and went upstairs to get a clean shirt. He bandaged the cuts on his chest that his father had opened and washed his face. The facial cuts weren't bleeding any more, but a large purple bruise was forming. Fuck. Nothing he could do about that. 

He put a change of clothes in an overnight bag and went back downstairs. Ignoring his father he went outside to the helicopter. 

"Take me to the Metropolis airport." Lex told the pilot. "Then return here to take my father back." 

The helicopter lifted off and Lex watched as the castle grew smaller and smaller 

* * *

Thomas finished changing and went back out to the living room. Clark had fallen asleep on the couch. Lex is coming Clark. He's coming to make everything right. Coming to hold you, and love you, and take you home. 

Thomas sat in a chair and turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. 

12 

Clark was still asleep when Thomas answered the quiet knock at the door. It had been three and a half hours since his call to the billionaire in Kansas. Thomas sighed as he looked out the peep hole. A man looking quite nervous was rubbing his bald head. He hoped he was doing the right thing. Thomas opened the door. 

"Mr. Luthor, please come in." Thomas shook Lex's hand and ushered him into the short doorway. "Can I take your coat?" 

"Where is Clark?" Lex was anxious and nervous, his voice almost pleading. He handed his black coat to Thomas who hung it in the coat closet. 

"He's sleeping." 

Thomas led him to the edge of the living room. God, it was Clark! Though Lex almost wouldn't have recognized him; he was so thin, and his face was gaunt. His skin didn't have its usual golden color. And his hair was down to his shoulders. Lex would never have imagined Clark could look like this. 

Lex turned to Thomas with a questioning look. Thomas nodded and Lex approached the couch. He knelt down in front of the couch and continued to watch Clark. The boy's light snore made Lex smile, ever so slightly. Would he know the right things to say? Would Clark let him explain? Could Clark forgive him? 

Lex reached out and gently touched a long strand of hair which had fallen over Clark's eyes. He brushed it behind Clark's ear. Eyes fluttered at the touch, long black lashes slowly revealed beautiful hazel eyes. Clark's eyes. Lex removed his hand from Clark's face. He didn't want to frighten the boy. 

Clark stirred, seeing the figure in front of him. It took a moment for his brain to register. 

"Lex?" Clark's eyes flashed in full recognition. Those eyes were suddenly wide with fear. He sat up quickly. 

"Shh, Clark, it's okay. Everything will be okay." Lex didn't move from in front of Clark. He reached out and touched Clark's hand, but he jerked it away. 

Shit, Lex thought. This wasn't going to be easy. He shouldn't have thought it would be. 

"Lex, how . . ." Clark glanced over at Thomas. Thomas felt like a low life for betraying Clark, but knew it was the right thing to do. Clark's eyes returned, but he would not look at Lex. 

Lex moved onto the couch next to Clark. Hesitating but a moment, Lex drew Clark into an embrace, wrapping his arms around Clark's chest. So thin. Lex stroked Clark's back, long settling strokes. Clark dipped his head under Lex's chin and began to cry. 

Thomas smiled and went into his bedroom to allow the two men their privacy. 

"Lex, I'm so sorry. How can you ever forgive me?" Clark's tears were soaking Lex's silk sweater. 

Lex's eyes weren't dry either. Clark held onto one hand while Lex's other hand continued to stroke his back. 

"You didn't do anything Clark. I'm so sorry those horrid pictures and stories were dumped in your lap. Lionel . . ." 

"He wouldn't take my call. I thought you were mad and playing tricks on me. I hate your father, Lex." More tears burst from Clark's eyes. 

"No more than I do, Clark." Now wasn't the time to go into the details of his dealings with Lionel. He moved his hand from Clark's back to his head, stroking, carding, the long raven hair. 

"How are Mom and Dad?" Clark's sobs were subsiding, his voice full of trepidation. 

"They miss you terribly, but they are fine. We all missed you Clark. We missed you so much." 

"What happened to your face?" Clark touched the purple bruise on Lex's cheek. 

"Lionel." Lex answered. "It doesn't matter right now." 

"How are your arms?" Clark asked as he X-rayed them and found the bones completely healed. 

"They're fine. They healed a long time ago." Lex stroked Clark's cheek. 

"I'm a monster, Lex. I hurt everything I touch. I can't help it." The tears started to flow again. 

Lex studied his face. Did Clark really believe this? 

"Is that why you ran, Clark? Because you thought you hurt me?" John had been right, Lex thought. 

"I did hurt you, Lex. I'm a monster. Even your Dad said so. I had to get away from everyone. Didn't want to hurt people any more. But, I still do. I'm still a monster." 

"Stop saying that!" Lex said, a bit more forcefully than he had intended. "It was an accident. You are no monster. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, Clark." 

Clark stared into Lex's blue-gray eyes, studying carefully. Looking for any sign that Lex might be telling a lie. Finding none, he wrapped his arms around Lex and kissed hm chastely on the lips. Clark then lowered his head again to cuddle against Lex's chest. 

They sat that way for the longest time, neither said anything aloud. But their bodies said everything to each other. Held flush together, their hearts began to beat in tandem. Their breathing was that of one person's. 

Clark's stomach growled, interrupting the quiet. 

"Are you hungry?" Lex asked. 

"Uh, huh." Clark answered. "Always." He grinned. 

"Then, let's go get you something to eat." 

Grudgingly, Clark disentangled himself from Lex. Lex went and knocked on Thomas' bedroom door. 

"Clark is hungry. I thought we might go out and get something. Would you like to come with us?" 

"No, thanks." Thomas said, knowing they needed more time together. "I can recommend somewhere if you'd like." 

"What are you hungry for, Clark?" Lex called out. 

"Everything! A buffet!" 

Lex allowed his eyes to roll and Thomas laughed. 

"Well, you did ask." Clark said, pouting.. 

"Yes, but that's not real food, Clark." Lex stomach rolled at the thought. 

"It's real all right. And I can have as much as I want!" Clark nearly drooled. 

"Any buffets around?" Lex asked, hoping there weren't. 

"Yes. Chinese or American?" Thomas's eyes reflected his big smile. 

"American!" Clark said. 

Lex frowned slightly as Thomas gave him the directions. 

"We're going to the Country Buffet in a limo?" Clark asked once they were outside the apartment. 

"Well, that's what I came here in. We can always go downtown to a proper restaurant." 

"No. Buffet, Lex." 

Lex smiled and gave the driver the directions. Once in the car, Lex glanced at Clark's excited face. What must it have been like for Clark? Frightened, hungry, no place to stay, afraid to call anyone. Lex didn't want to imagine it. He was with Clark now, that's all that mattered. Lex would call the Kents later. Clark was easily spooked and he didn't want to put too much on him too soon. 

As they pulled up in front of the restaurant, Clark jumped out excitedly pulling Lex behind him. 

13 

On the drive back to Thomas' Lex stared at his friend. He had never in his life seen as much food consumed by any one person as Clark had just done. It would take a while to put the pounds back on if he didn't make himself sick first. 

Thomas greeted them at the door. "How was lunch?" 

"Wonderful." Clark said dreamily. "Though Lex didn't eat much." 

"Not hungry." Not entirely true, but the answer was accepted. Lex couldn't bring himself to eat much of the greasy, mass produced food substitutes. 

Lex slipped up behind Clark and wrapped his arms around him. "Are you up to talking to your parents, Clark?" 

"I'm scared, Lex." Clark trembled. "I don't think I want to talk to anyone just yet. But I'm ready to go home . . . to the castle." 

"Okay . . . why don't you go get your things?" Lex kissed his neck as he released Clark from his embrace. Clark went off down the hall to retrieve his backpack. 

Lex turned to Thomas. "There is nothing I can say . . ." 

"You don't have to." Thomas replied. "Seeing Clark's face light up when he saw you is enough. He's very special. It doesn't take a genius to see that you two belong together." 

"That obvious?" Lex stared down the hallway. 

"Yes. I hope you know how lucky you are, Lex. Having some onewho loves you as much as Clark does. Don't ever treat that lightly. And don't you dare ever fuck it up." Thomas' gaze was serious. 

"I won't." Lex's eyes returned to Thomas. "Clark told me about your friend, Freddy. I'm very sorry." 

"My lover and life long companion, Lex. It went much further than mere friendship. It just turned out that life long' was much shorter than we expected. Be sure you don't waste a minute of your time together." 

"We won't. I promise." 

Clark emerged and joined them in the living room. 

"I'm ready." Clark said sheepishly. "Thank you, Thomas." Clark embraced the older man and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 

"You're very welcome, Clark. Now you take care." 

"If you ever need anything, just call." Lex said. "You have the number." 

* * *

Clark slept on the plane, then in the limo ride back to Lex's mansion. He was snuggled up against Lex and Lex couldn't keep his hands off Clark: stroking his back, his hair, and his arms. The tactile sensations filled Lex with calm energy. Assuring him that Clark was real. 

Lex called ahead to have Frances, his cook, prepare a large dinner for their arrival. He assumed Clark would be just as hungry for dinner as he was for lunch. 

Lex gazed out the window of the limo. The winter wheat was up a couple of inches. Kansas was really a wheat state, not corn. Not enough rain for corn. Any corn grown here was for livestock. Iowa, now there's your corn state. The Kents grew their vegetables, year round, in a hothouse. That's the only way they could have a steady supply for their extra income. 

God, he must be tired. When did he ever philosophize about crops? All he wanted was to get his precious cargo home. Then call the Kents. They would probably be angry that Lex hadn't called earlier. But Clark was his main concern and the boy hadn't been ready to talk to his parents. Lex just hoped he could keep them from coming to the mansion tonight. Clark would go home when he was ready. 

The limo pulled up in front of the mansion and Lex gently kissed Clark's cheek and stroked his face. 

"We're home, Clark." 

"Okay." Clark sat up straight, his face flushed from sleep, his hair clinging to his face. 

Michael met them at the door. He shook his head to Lex's unasked question. Lionel was not there. 

"Welcome back, Clark." Michael said, taking their coats. "Lex, Frances tells me dinner will be ready in 30 minutes. 

Lex nodded and led Clark into the study. It felt strange to be back where it all started. Fear started to rise up in Clark and his eyes darted around in panic. He grabbed onto Lex for support. 

"Your Dad?" 

"Not here. Not ever welcome again. Short of shooting him though, I don't think I can keep him out when he comes back. And he will be back." Lex sat Clark down on the leather couch. Clark let him slide through his grip and Lex got him a Coke from the mini-frig under the bar. 

"We need to call your parents," Lex said gently. 

"I don't know what to say, Lex. I don't want to see them right now. There's too much I need to talk to you about, first." 

"Okay, I'll call them and let them know you're home and you're okay." 

That conversation had not been pleasant. Lex paced the kitchen while he talked on his cell phone. He could understand the Kents' desire to see their son. He would have been upset if they had been the ones to bring Clark home and wouldn't let Lex talk to him. Finally, connecting with Martha, she said she understood, but would not wait long. Lex insisted on two days. If he couldn't get Clark to go to his parents in two days, he would allow them to come to the mansion. Jonathan was not pleased, but agreed. 

After a sumptuous dinner of barley soup, roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh asparagus, rolls, and chocolate cake, Clark was stuffed. 

"That's the best meal I've ever had." He said as they headed back to the study. 

"Well, certainly, one of the heaviest." Lex grumbled. He had already complained to Francis, but she had read him the riot act. How else were they going to get Clark fattened up? Lex had thrown up his arms and acquiesced. 

"Do you mind if I shower?" Clark asked. "I don't know if I'll ever feel clean again." 

"Of course Clark." Lex led him upstairs to the bathroom off his bedroom. 

14 

Lex turned the water on, sat on the bed, and tried not to stare as Clark undressed. It was everything Lex could do to not retch. Even though his mind knew Clark was thin, he had not been prepared for this. Clark was a walking skeleton. He was at least 50 pounds underweight. Every rib showed prominently. His hip bones jutted out and each vertebrae was outlined down his back. Thin, sallow skin covered those bones. His shoulder blades looked so sharp it seemed they would tear his fragile skin. There was no real muscle to speak of. How had he stayed strong enough to accomplish what he had in California? Lex looked away. 

When Clark emerged from the bathroom, he had a towel around his waist. His skin was red from the hot water. His long hair was held back with an elastic band. 

"I assume this wasn't yours." Clark said, indicating the band. "I found it in the medicine cabinet." 

"No, you're welcome to it." Lex offered no further explanation. It had probably belonged to Victoria. 

Clark sat on the edge of the bed, next to Lex. His eyes began to well up. 

"Lex, I did some terrible things. Some unforgivable things." 

Lex wrapped his arms around Clark, holding him tight. 

"Whatever it was, we can get through it. Baby, there's nothing you could have done that's so bad." 

"Yes, there is." Clark whispered. He pulled away from Lex and fell to his knees. No one should ever feel the pain Lex read in Clark's expression. "Sometimes . . . Oh, god Lex." 

Lex took his hands and kissed them. "Tell me. It will be all right if you tell me. I can share it with you." 

"I . . . I let myself be used.." Clark paled, tightening his grip on Lex's hands. "I . . . sometimes I was just, so . . . so hungry." Clark stared at the floor. Looking up, he continued. "Lex, I needed money. Sometimes there was no food for days . . . Oh, Lex." Clark shivered 

Lex's stomach tightened. He'd known this was coming, John had warned him. How awful it must have been for Clark. He couldn't begin to imagine. 

"It's okay baby. I understand. You can't blame yourself. You did what you had to do to survive." Lex brought him into his arms again. "We will need to get you tested, though." 

"I can't get sick, Lex. Can't even get AIDS." 

"What? It's okay, just a simple blood test. I can have Toby . . ." 

"No, Lex. I cannot get sick. That goes with my other abilities. You know, the ones you've always chocked up to Mutant Smallville'." 

"Well, I've suspected there was more to you than you were willing to tell." 

"Yes, Lex. The meteors didn't make me a mutant. I came to Earth with the meteors. In a little space ship." 

"Space ship?" Lex's brain fumbled with the image. 

"Yes. I'm an alien. 100 percent pure non-human." 

"Oh." Lex didn't know what to say. But he knew he didn't care. This was still Clark. His Clark. 

"Say something, Lex." Clark looked at his friend nervously. 

"Are you here to conquer the world?" 

Clark laughed. "No, I don't think so." 

"Okay, because that's my job." Lex smiled. 

Clark playfully pushed Lex back on the bed, tickling his ribs. He lifted Lex's thin sweater for better tickling access and stopped, suddenly. Clark ran his finger along the faint lines cut into Lex's chest. 

Lex closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Clark, I . . ." 

"Why, Lex?" Clark pushed the sweater up further and gasped at the full extent of the scarring. 

"I thought you left because you hated me. Hated me because of my damning exploits." 

"But why this Lex? Why did you cut yourself?" Clark's fingers traced over the fine lines. 

God, he didn't want Clark to blame himself. But there had to be truth between them. Clark had told his secrets. Lex had to do the same. 

"I . . . one cut, Clark. One cut for each day you were gone. Extras for arbitrary reasons. Reminded me that I could feel. I couldn't feel anything else, Clark. For the longest time I was angry with you for leaving. Then, I realized I was angry with myself, for not telling you that I loved you. I've never felt so helpless in my life. I don't ever want to feel that way again." 

Clark leaned down and began to kiss the marks on the man he loved. There were so many. But right now, he had nothing else more important to do. 

* * *

Thomas opened the door. A man standing outside handed him an envelope, smiled and left. Standing in the doorway, he opened the envelope. Inside were keys, a title made out in his name, a receipt for paid taxes, and a note: 

I can't ever begin to thank you for your kindness. You may have saved Clark's life. I know you  
saved mine." Alexander J. Luthor. 

Thomas smiled and ran down the stairs to his new Lexus GX. 

End 


End file.
